December 14, 2015 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Fawole Immanuel Taiwo






I give a meticulous gaze into the wood.
I see sundry trees,
But I have not discerned the best as Iroko.
Copious leaves has my mouth harboured,
But none pleases its tastebud as the bitterleaf.
Into the jungle do I give a stare,
My optical nerve relays to my brain
That the lion remains the king of the jungle; a termless one.
With profound and intense meticulousness,
I give a prolong gape into your world—a muliebrity’s,
But I never descry your such—elegance personified.


The petals in your unalloyed beauty has done nothing
But gained my utmost undisposed attention.


See me as no suitor,
But rather, discern me as an imminent consort.
Many might have visited you uninvited
And innumerable are still likely to come
To seek your meek hand in the to-death journey.
My adumaadan!
Give their thirst no liquid
‘Cause my intimacy and affection is of no march.


I know not, but thirst to know, the bird
Which pooed you,
But I perceive through your gorgeousness that it has taken a good intake.
Let the skin beaters beat the skin to a rejoice.
Let North and East and West and South
Come to the centre and exult to our merger.
Let my people from the South
Meet your people in the East, in mutuality.


Segilola Awelewa!
Grace me with the grace not to edify my edifice in the aura.
Let my castle be constructed on your gentle heart and no other place.
Cloth me with the garment of mercy and let me singularize a one-man boulevard that leads me into your heart.
When promiscuous mistresses dualize boulevard into their dead hearts,
Please let me be the only walker on the boulevard leading to your heart.


Let us effect a merger to our hearts
And transform them into one.
Let us couple our souls
And make them one.
Let my flesh be yours
And yours mine.
Let your bone be mine
And mine to be yours.
Let us birth parents to our grandchild together.
Those that will cloth our eyes with the earth on that day—
A day when my love for you shall know its bound on this phase.


Courting you is a bard.
Intertwine your hand with mine and let me take you on an adventure to the poetic world.
Let us take our seats in the amphitheatre of the cloud and watch and listen to my poetically sage brothers dispense.
I will use the whole poetic vigour in me
To regain your sanity when Akeem Lasisi steals it with his mesmeric dispensations
And when Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju plunders your understanding
With his humble and wit-challenging issuances,
I will take you to the bardic abode of Tukur Loba Ridwan for decipher.
Our poetic voyage and adventure will know flaw
If I do not make you discern Michael Ace.
Under his poetic pedagogy have I been illuminated.
The bardic door has he opened for my comprehension.


What joy it will fill my heart
To eye you by my side diurnally.


The physician may diagnose a hole in my heart,
But I will snub his diagnosis
And believe that it is not a hole,
But an aperture between my heart to commune with yours.


It will be exemplary to a butterfly trying to put off a kindled fire
When anybody attempts killing my affection for you.


Segilola eleyinju ege!
My tongue differs from that of the politicians’
Which voice, ‘I will do,”
But never does.
It differs from the political parties’ manifestos
Which read, ‘we will implement,’
But never implements.
My desire for you is not a desire for satisfaction on the couch.


Olowo ori mi,
Let the archers of heaven fire their arrows of blessing toward my affection
And let our drivers to this terrain shower us with benediction.
Don’t let my admiration be a crazy one like Adeosun Damilola’s.












On that fateful day
That heaven refused to grin on me,
But chose to grin on my foe.
That day has marked me memorial.
Its sunshine is what I never hoped for.


Solitarily I was in my shanty
On that malevolent day.
Hopelessly battling with my garri;*
One that was dispensed from its best source—


Though all seem down for me,
All seem to have forlorn me,
Heavens seem to have backed off,
All alter egos and relations gone,
But my feminine ego remains intact.

The ego have I protected
With all agility and ability.
Peers in jocundity have misplaced theirs,
But it’s unfoundable.
Easily could I have lost mine.


Even though I was vigilant.
Vigilant with the protection.
Protection for my ego.
Ego protected from lust.
Lust from the opposite gender.


My best seem insufficient
On that cursed day
When Brother Adekunle—
That unscrupulous neighbour of mine
Visited surprisingly.


My savouring hand took to strike
At the sight of Brother Adekunle.
Humongous thoughts ran through my mind,
“What mission has he come to accomplish?
Have I wronged him?”


His entry depicts no hesitation.
Before a blink of an eye,
He was on me,
Dancing to the feminine beat
Which Divinity played through me.


Brother Adekunle with his master key
Unlocked my ego.
He broke therein.
He looted my ego.
Submerging me in salty water.


Brother Adekunle!
Malediction I dispense on you
As you have left me in woebegoneness.
May your untamed device
Feel inevitably nemesis.





Ijebu*a town in Ogun State, Nigeria where the best farina is believed to be produced







Fawole Immanuel Taiwo

Fawole Immanuel Taiwo is a Nigerian writer of the three genres of literature: drama, prose and poetry. Of the three, his dexterity on poetry is more profound. His writing experience started when he was eight years old. His first poem, ‘African Or What?’ was written in 2013. Fawole was a Science student who later forgoes Science for Art due to his love for Art. He writes his poem, ‘Solace Place’ after leaving Science to reflect his action and state in Art. The likes of Wole Soyinka, Niyi Osundare, Akeem Lasisi, Chinua Achebe and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie are his role models.


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